


Wednesday

by astronaut86



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, clear skies - Freeform, minor characters: mccree, minor characters: moria, overwatch (loose canon), the Doctor is in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 00:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21437488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astronaut86/pseuds/astronaut86
Summary: Angela and Fareeha hit it off ... until they don't.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Wednesday

Hunched over the journal in front of her, a blonde woman stared intently at the parchment in front of her. Her thin eyebrows were scrunched together, and her mouth moved with each word she read silently to herself. To any outside observer, it is clear the woman was lost to the present world and existed currently only within the pages of her work.

BLEEP. 

Angela started. Her mind was still buzzing with thought as it struggled to identify the source of the noise. BLEEP! The sound had grown louder, and she was startled to realize it's _her_. She tapped on her watch, shutting off the sound.

_7:30_. She noted absently, eyes trying to refocus on the paper in front of her. Angela mouthed the last sentence again to herself before suddenly jerking up out of her seat.

_It's 7:30_. Her deft fingers clap the journal she'd been writing in shut. She shoved it into one of her many desk drawers, making a mental note to rehome it later. Then, she turned around to the wide oak cabinet behind her. Seven trays were lined up next to each other on the flat surface, each labelled with day of the week. Angela reached toward a folder sitting slightly askew in _Monday_. But then she paused. _Or was it Tuesday?_ What had she done yesterday ... gone for tacos at _El Sombrero's_ ... Shit. It was definitely Wednesday.

_Wednesday’_s contents were much neater than those in the other days. But the single file was also thicker and unfamiliar. A pit formed in her stomach, but she firmly pushed away the thoughts associated. No time for that now: a side glance at the clock announced it was now 7:33. Angela grabbed the folder, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and dashed from her office.

When she arrived at the room she was supposed to be (_already be in_), Angela came to a full stop at the door. She hunched over her knees slightly, taking several deep breaths. It wouldn't do to show up panting and barely able to speak. 

For a woman who had just run down two flights of steps and across a large courtyard, Angela still looked mostly put together when she finally managed to steady her breathing and walk through the door. She held her chin up and kept her stride confident. She might be a few minutes late, but she was not about to let anyone think less of her for it.

The lecture-style hall came full into view. The stadium seating rose upward, and Angela had to squint against the lights to see that the back rows were mostly filled - a contrast to the rows closer to the front that were sparsely populated. _Typical_. Angela thought she could see a hand waving her to an empty seat near the back and she sighed but ignored it. 

Instead, Angela made a beeline for the podium and let her folder fall unceremoniously from her arms onto it. Then she turned to look at a built-in screen that appeared level with the wood. After she tapped through a few of the options, she cleared her throat. "Welcome," she said. Her voice was loud in the room, bringing an end to the soft chatter. Angela allowed a long pause to capture the attention of the room before continuing. The few faces that were close enough to make out showed some signs of confusion. Angela knew what that look meant - she'd seen often enough now to have lost her nativity. In a less polite crowd, someone would have asked where the "real" teacher was. She knew from experience she just had to push ahead and quell any concerns with demonstration, so she just continued, "to my operating room." Angela tapped something else on the screen and the wall behind her lit up with a live stream she had had the IT staff set up for her a few days ago.

The collective gasp was audible. "Gross," she heard one boy whisper. Angela pursued her lips at the unprofessional reaction. At least her first day of class wouldn't be remembered for her tardiness.

-

Fifteen hours later, Angela perched quietly atop a rickety stool. Her elbows rested impolitely on the dark cherry wood bar top, and her hands were wrapped around a cool copper mug. She raised the cup to her lips and the smell of ginger and lime hit her before the taste did. Angela sighed, letting her shoulders droop. After placing her empty cup down, she started to rub her temples in an attempt to relieve the stress, blue eyes shutting. She barely heard the squeak of the stool next to her.

“Rough day?”

“Hm,” Angela hummed out. She continued to rub her temple a moment longer before opening her eyes and glancing at her new companion. The woman next to her is youthful with dark hair that matches her dark skin. “Dissertation,” she explained, still eying her. The woman was vaguely familiar, but Angela couldn’t quite place her.

“On?”

“Biotic tech,” Angela responded. The woman next to her raised her eyebrows. “Cryptic,” she responded dryly.

Angela’s lips twitched into a half-smile. She was used to describing her work for the everyman, so she quickly supplied, “I’m writing about the potential nanobiology has to treat life-threatening injuries.”

“So, you could probably use another drink,” the woman responded. Angela checked her watch. She had a regimented day. This hour of “recreation” was rapidly ending. She opened her mouth to decline but she caught the way the woman was gazing at her, her throat caught, and she quickly changed her mind. “That would be lovely.”

“Great,” she said, grinning. Angela watched silently as the woman caught the attention of the barkeep. The dim light, she decided, did the woman no favors but even the dingy yellow atmosphere could not hide the smoothness of her face or the broadness of her shoulders.

“Moscow Mule, right?” The woman pushed a new copper mug through the short space between them and Angela quickly dropped her eyes, hoping she hadn’t been caught admiring her. “Thank you,” Angela said, taking the mug. “Forgive me but, what is your name?”

“Fareeha.”

There was a long pause. Angela knew she had heard that name before. And on the one hand, maybe it was just coincidence but on the other it was not a common name even in a town that hosted an international university. “That’s lovely,” Angela said finally.

“I’ll be sure to tell my mother you said that,” the woman replied. And she laughed too, but the tinge of bitterness was palpable. Angela considered inquiring but thought better of it. “Dr. Angela Ziegler.” She almost held out a hand to shake but thought better of that too.

Fareeha chuckled, this time with real mirth. “Doctor,” she repeated, mouth twitching with amusement.

“Well, yes. I’ve earned it.” There was a vague hint of annoyance to Angela’s voice.

“Sorry,” Fareeha said. “I didn’t mean to offend. It was just a little more … pretentious ... than I was expecting.”

Angela cocked her head. She smiled slowly as the blip of frustration seeped away. “I’m not very good at …” Angela trailed off with a shrug. It had been months since she had even thought about going on a date, let alone letting herself be picked up in a bar. She cleared her throat. “It’s nice to meet you Fareeha. I’m Angela.”

“Could use some work,” her companion responded caustically. “But better.”

Despite herself, Angela smiled.

-

“Clear skies,” Fareeha noted. The women had reached Angela’s apartment complex and now stood bundled in their jackets on the sidewalk in front of the building. Angela followed the other woman’s gaze. The sky above them was cloudless and aside from a small amount of light pollution, it was beautiful. The stars dazzled and shone brightly; the moon was nearly full.

“Beautiful,” Angela said. Whether she was referring to the sky or to Fareeha was left up to the other woman’s imagination. Angela made a show of digging around in her jacket pocket for keys, stalling. Usually, she was easily decisive. And the choice here should have been as clear as the sky. In the back of her mind, she _knew_ she was off schedule and it bothered her. But the worried nagging feeling that tugged at the edges of her slightly fuzzy brain was competing with the warm pressure that had settled firmly in her chest throughout her evening with Fareeha. “Nightcap?” she asked finally, hesitantly.

If Fareeha detected Angela’s hesitation, she didn’t show it. “Yes,” she responded without pause.

Angela made quick work of opening the building door and ushering Fareeha into an elevator. The ride up was silent but Angela found she didn’t mind. The joint effects of her decision to invite Fareeha up and the inhibition of alcohol had provided her with enough reckless courage that she felt no need to fill the silence. “This way,” she said once they had stepped off on the third floor. It only took a few strides down the hallway for them to end up in front of a door marked 313, and even fewer to unlock the door.

After the door clanked shut behind them. Angela stripped her jacket off and hung it up on a small metal coatrack near the door. Fareeha followed suit then walked further into the apartment. Angela watched her take in the surroundings. It was a small, modest open-concept studio. The living room had a single couch with a coffee table in front of it; the kitchen a fridge, stove, and some cabinets with a coffeepot; and finally a cluttered desk stood near a bed that was against the far wall, made neatly with an orange and white comforter. The walls were a little sparse with only a photo hung here and there.

“No roommates, then.” Fareeha observed. Angela walked forward, coming to stand next to her. “None,” she confirmed. Then she titled her face upward. When Fareeha came down to meet her lips, Angela placed her arm on her shoulder, letting her hand rest on the nape of Fareeha’s neck as she leaned in.

The kiss was an eager one. Fareeha’s lips were warm and hungry too. The longer it lasted, the more intense it became. Angela’s fingers pressed into the back of Fareeha’s neck, tangling them with the short hairs there, and she could feel Fareeha’s arms encircle her back, grip tightening. The pressure of her body against Fareeha’s made warm waves crash through Angela and she could feel the beat of her heart pulsing up through her neck.

She left her freehand rest on Fareeha’s hip, then let it wander beneath the hem of her shirt. Fareeha’s skin felt hot to the touch and she felt a small shudder ripple through Fareeha’s body. It had been awhile since Angela had last kissed someone, and she had not felt this hungry for more. When the kiss finally ended, Angela breathed in deeply. With her face so close to Fareeha’s, she could smell the lingering scent of a cucumber shampoo and a hint of … fuel? Her mind turned over a few possibilities but her need to figure it out dissipated quickly once Fareeha had pulled away just enough to start tugging her own shirt off.

Fareeha tossed the back t-shirt to the floor, her torso now covered only by a bright blue sports bra that contrasted sharply against her brown skin. The sight of Fareeha’s broad shoulders and muscular arms made Angela’s pulse quicken more. But she reciprocated quickly, tugging her own blouse off over her blonde ponytail and letting it fall to the floor next to Fareeha’s. Angela shivered, but not with cold. She gripped the waistband of Fareeha’s jeans and pulled the taller girl closer. Fareeha came willingly and continued to walk, pushing Angela backward against the wall. Fareeha grabbed each of Angela’s writs and pinned them up over her head. Fareeha looked directly into Angela’s eyes, and Angela felt her breath hitch in her chest. Then Fareeha leaned in and let her mouth graze lightly over Angela’s neck. Her breath was warm, and the feel of her teeth was feather light against her skin. A small sound escaped Angela and her body impulsively heaved forward, pressing harder against Fareeha’s.

“Don’t stop,” Angela breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. Fareeha pulled back slightly, offering a mischievous smile. “What about your dissertation?”

“It won’t grow wings,” Angela huffed. “But don’t tempt me,” she added, though she failed to sound convincing. Fareeha smirked, released one of Angela’s captive wrists, and used her now free hand to brush Angela’s knee before gently running her fingers against Angela’s leg and up underneath her skirt to her thigh.

-

BLEEP.

Angela’s hand reached shot out from under a sheet and patted around on the mattress. Instead of finding her watch, her hand met the hard-abdominal muscles of the woman sharing her bed. Fareeha did not seem disturbed by the alarm and her breathing was still rhythmic. Angela let the tips of her fingers linger and her toes curled slightly as her sleepy brain woke to the vivid memories of last night flooding in. _BLEEP!_ This time Fareeha stirred.

“Ugh,” Angela groaned as the other woman slowly opened her eyes. Fareeha yawned as Angela started patting around blindly on the mattress again. Fareeha stretched her arms out over her head and then glanced at her wrist. “Hhmm, _5:00_,” mumbled Fareeha.

Angela snorted. “That was your alarm?” she asked grumpily. Despite her routines, she’d never been nor become a morning person. If it was 5, her own alarm wouldn’t go off for another hour. Her heavy eyes fell closed again but she could hear the bed sheets ruffling under Fareeha’s movements.

“Yes,” Fareeha said. Where Angela was starting to drift back to sleep, Fareeha seemed to have gained energy. A moment later, Angela felt a chill in the spot where Fareeha had been and she could hear the creaking under Fareeha’s feet. Angela forced an eye open. “Come back to bed,” Angela called out.

“I want to, but I can’t,” Fareeha responded. She was half dressed already. “Doctor’s orders?” Angela offered hopefully. Fareeha paused for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think my commander would care.”

_Commander?_ Angela frowned. “You look too young to be a solider.”

“I’m not. Not yet.”

“Oh.” When Fareeha didn’t explain further, Angela decided to just pull the sheet over herself and turn around. If Fareeha wasn’t coming back to bed, she wasn’t about to waste a perfectly good hour to sleep.

When her alarm went off an hour later, Angela groggily rolled over and found the damn thing on the floor. Her morning was slow to start but eventually she struggled her way out of bed and picked up last night’s discarded clothing from the floor, placing it the hamper. She showered, brushed her teeth, and donned a pair of clean cloths. Then started her coffee pot and went to get the morning paper from the welcome mat. Once she was settled at her desk with a steaming cup, she let herself lean back against the chair. She sighed, now wishing she had had the wherewithal to ask Fareeha for her number.

Ah well. Angela looked at her watch again. It was already 6:45 and she hadn’t even started to catch up on the things she was supposed to have done last night, let alone started today’s tasks. It was probably for the better this way – less distractions.

-

Later that afternoon, Angela was begrudgingly walking across campus from her where her office was to another building for a department meeting. Her arms were full loaded down with paperwork and files, some more neatly organized than others. Even though she hadn’t made to the meeting yet, her nerves had already started fray. Dr. O'Deorain would be there and that knowledge alone was enough to make Angela bristle with premature anger.

She was mumbling angry responses to things she anticipated O’Deorain to say when her attention was caught by sight of a tall, dark woman across the way. Angela squinted, sure she was seeing things. Fareeha, however, was no mirage. She was in fact walking toward Angela, dressed in a spaceship graphic tee and jeans with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Whatever anger Angela had worked up over O’Deorain was pushed aside, making way for a rush of ice-cold blood as a feeling of horror grew in her stomach.

“Professor Ziegler!” Hearing her name, Angela was suddenly pulled away from staring at Fareeha and she stopped walking and turned to see a young man was hustling down the sidewalk behind her. “Doctor, ma’am.” He stopped near her and tipped his brown, wide-brim hat. “Didn’t mean to catch you like this,” he said, waving a hand at the documents she was carrying. “But you weren’t at your office hours last night. I had a question about the video we saw yesterday. In your class?”

Angela nodded. She tried to place the man in front of her, but he was probably one of the students who sat in the back. “My apologies. I should have e-mailed the class to cancel the hours.”

The man waved his hand. “Ain’t no problem. But I was hopin’ we could schedule a meeting for later?”

“Yes, of course. If you send me—” But Angela’s instructions were cut off by another familiar voice.

“Jesse, hello.” Fareeha stopped next to the pair and hefted her backpack before smiling at Angela. “Angela,” she said.

“You know the doc?” Jesse asked. “As do you,” Fareeha pointed out.

“Doctor Ziegler,” Angela interrupted, a comment directed at both of them.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Jesse replied sheepishly.

“Now, if you could send me an e-mail, I’ll arrange some time for you,” Angela told him. “Thanks,” he tipped his hat at her, then at Fareeha before going on his way.

Angela turned her gaze to Fareeha. “I didn’t know you were a student.”

“You are as well,” Fareeha responded. When that didn’t appear to appease Angela, Fareeha added, “Don’t worry, I’m not in your class.” The assurance didn’t put Angela at ease. If anything, she was more frustrated that Fareeha evidentially knew of her position here and had decided to go home with her anyway.

Technically, Fareeha was right. Angela was not actually faculty and she was, in fact, a student. But she occupied a gray space that made her now feel uncomfortable with everything that had occurred. And worse, Fareeha appeared to be friends with people in her class. The things she could or may have already told them made Angela’s insides turn with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” Angela said after the long pause. “But I have a meeting.” She pushed passed Fareeha and continued to walk.

“Wait, Angela,” Fareeha called out.

“_Doctor Ziegler_,” Angela corrected; and she didn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely canon-based. It is still set in the Overwatch world, but with obvious timeline differences and changes to character backgrounds. Because it may not have been very evident, the following information is true for this story:
> 
> \- The University is "international" in the sense that it caters to recruiting and teaching the best and brightest around the world. That said, it is clearly based on an American model of college. I somewhat imagine it is a recruiting ground for Overwatch, Helix, Vishkar, etc.  
\- Angela is 24 and a Phd student; she is also a teaching assistant. She completed her undergraduate degree as well as her MD prior to the story. Still a prodigy but with a more modest timeline than canon.  
\- Fareeha is 19 and likely a junior in undergrad. 
> 
> (You can assume all Overwatch characters retain their canon age-differences, so Jesse is likewise 24.)


End file.
